Page 31 of Petite Fleur

No, that sounds psychotic.

That crosses a barrier into insanity, one I am not ready to cross yet.

I could talk to her professor. Turner, I think his name is.

Maybe he would know who is cruel towards my goddess.

No, fuck. What am I even supposed to say? “Hello, professor. You don't know me, but I live and breathe for one of your students who doesn't know I exist. Could you tell me if anyone is mean to her?”

Can I even hear how idiotic that sounds?

But I need to know.

Whoever it is will not be given mercy.

She's been upset every week when leaving this lecture; not once has she smiled when coming out of this class, nor has she spoken to anyone from class.

Sure, she doesn't generally talk to many people, but she's always friendly to everyone aside from these particular classmates.

I'm still watching when I see Maeve swipe a tear from under her eye.

Yep, that's it; I'm going in there.

Fuck, think, Leon.

You can't just storm in there like some crazed boyfriend or overprotective dad and demand to know why the other kids won't play with my Maeve.

I have to think of something.

Chapter 11

Maeve Henderson

Today was the last environmental conservation class before finals.

We're given a two-week break from all classes before our finals. It's a weird system, but I like it.

It guarantees we all have adequate time to study without taking time off work.

It's really considerate of them; even better, it gives me two weeks without Professor Turner.

Every single week, he targets me.

I'm the girl who's killing the environment. I'm the inconsiderate one.

First, it was my spray deodorant, so I switched to all-natural deodorant.

It smells like blueberries, and I swear I've been chased by bees a few times already, but it's better for the planet.

Next, it was my shoes.

He lectured me about how killing animals for fast fashion is sick and twisted and that my not eating animal products is wasted by wearing suede shoes.

He wouldn't even let me tell him the suede was vegan and that I thrifted them, that I haven't been able to afford to pay full price for any clothing since high school.

It doesn't matter, every week is something different.

Every week, he’s mad about something new, but it's always me that he’s mad at.